


viii. (disco) fever

by tempestaurora



Series: it's okay, we're okay [whumpvember 2018] [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bad movies, Disco, Fluff, Gen, Movie Night, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: “Please don’t make me watch this,” Peter whined, moving to lean on Tony as he did so.“No can do, buddy,” Tony said. “It’s movie night. It’s May’s turn. Law is, we have to watch this.”“Don’t act like you’re not excited,” Pepper commented, pulling her feet up onto the cushions. “You’ve been humming Stayin’ Alive all day.”Tony grinned. “That’s because it’s got a great soundtrack. Iamexcited. May’s turns are the best turns.”May’s turns were the worst turns.





	viii. (disco) fever

**Author's Note:**

> this is my favourite one yet  
> this is also being posted earlier than usual because i've got class and then a writer's talk this evening  
> i promised you i'd write fluff

Bad things were going to happen, Peter could _sense_ it.

Not his spidey-sense – no, that was remaining silent as Peter settled into the sofa, not at all at ease with his surroundings. This was going to be bad. This was going to be weird. This was going to be downright terrifying.

Next to him, Tony landed heavily on the sofa. Pepper was on Tony’s other side and May even further along the couch. They were all excited, wine glasses in their hands and humming the tunes that Peter was dreading to hear.

See, it was movie night. And May chose _Saturday Night Fever._ And now they were all going to suffer.

“Please don’t make me watch this,” Peter whined, moving to lean on Tony as he did so. Tony wasn’t big on physical contact, but Peter knew that if he acted small and initiated some sort of contact, Tony might break. It was the same way he got ice cream for breakfast the weekend before. Pleading, puppy dog eyes and resting his head on Tony Stark’s shoulder.

Unfortunately, Tony had an iron resolve tonight, and slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, keeping him in place. “No can do, buddy,” Tony said. “It’s movie night. It’s May’s turn. Law is, we have to watch this.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited,” Pepper commented, pulling her feet up onto the cushions. On screen, FRIDAY had the opening scene paused and ready. “You’ve been humming _Stayin’ Alive_ all day.”

Tony grinned. “That’s because it’s got a great soundtrack. I _am_ excited. May’s turns are the best turns.”

May’s turns were the _worst_ turns. They were old movies – but not the good old movies, like the original _Star Wars_ trilogy or _Aliens._ No, they were the bad kind. The _Casablanca_ kind of bad with its inexplicable _here’s looking at you, kid_ line that made no sense. The old, horrifying renditions of _Frankenstein_ kind of bad. The cowboy-riding-a-nuke-into-Moscow- _Dr-Strangelove_ kind of bad.

Peter had even gotten May’s turn pushed back a week by insisting that Rhodey choose when he was present two weeks previous. Movie night was a thing for the four of them: Pepper, Tony, Peter and May, but Rhodey was around the compound and invited for the night, and it was only _fair_ that he got a chance to pick.

But they were here now, and May was grinning like crazy because she had the biggest crush on young John Travolta and was going to watch him in an uncomfortably unbuttoned shirt singing to _disco_ music. And if there was one thing Peter Parker knew above all else, it was that disco music _sucks._

“She could’ve at least chosen _Grease_ if she wanted to see John Travolta’s face,” Peter grumbled.

“It’s not just his face I like, honey,” May retorted from the other end of the sofa, making Peter screw his face up as the adults laughed.

He felt Tony’s hand come up to ruffle his hair and Peter sunk into it, because if he was going to put up with two hours of disco music, he was at least going to be comfortable.

“Alright, FRI,” Tony said. “We’re ready.”

_So not ready._

First there was the opening shot, the city, the traffic, the music building in the background. Then there was the horrible bright red letting of _JOHN TRAVOLTA_ in the middle of the screen. Then, it happened. _Ah, this is what hell is like. John Travolta carrying a gallon of paint and dancing to The Bee Gees._

As _Stayin’ Alive_ filled the room, Peter shuddered at the sound of Tony mumbling the lyrics under his breath.

When the movie started up in earnest, Peter frowned and leaned closer to Tony, whispering, “Wait, do you like this movie because the main character’s called Tony?”

Next to him, Tony snorted, nodding. “Oh yeah,” he replied, just as low, as not to disturb the others. “I’ll watch any movie my name features prominently in.”

The movie kept going and Peter resorted to sinking lower and lower into the sofa, his eyes rolling back over the pain of having to pay attention to such a movie. It became clear quite quickly that all three of Peter’s parental figures were watching the movie more for the soundtrack than the plot, as they often talked over the dialogue and action, resorting to playing on their phones or making fun of whatever was happening on screen.

When a song they particularly liked came on, the three of them would drop what they were doing and sing in either hideously high-pitched voices to match The Bee Gees or disproportionately loud for the volume of the television.

It was only at these parts that Peter found any joy in the activity, as he snapchatted Tony and Pepper dancing around the living room, singing loudly to _More Than a Woman_ rather than watching John Travolta and Stephanie on screen. (Ned frequently replied with a close up of his shocked face and lots of exclamation marks.)

“I’m in pain,” Peter said, when the plot started up again and Tony rolled his eyes no matter the smile on his face, pouring more wine into his glass.

“You’ll be fine,” Tony replied. “It’s almost over. We’re just waiting for the last song.”

“Why put on this movie if you all hate it?”

“We don’t _hate_ it,” May replied. “We just dislike everything apart from the music.”

Peter groaned. “Why didn’t you just put the soundtrack on instead?”

Pepper laughed. “Can’t see young John Travolta if we’re just listening to the soundtrack.”

“Yeah, kid, keep up,” Tony agreed. “Young John Travolta is a seventies sex god. He’s the equivalent of your – I don’t know, who’s the universal sex god of your generation?”

“Zac Efron,” Peter replied without missing a beat. “But it _should_ be John Boyega.”

Tony snorted, and further down the sofa May drained her wine glass. “Here we go,” she said.

“Is it time?” Pepper asked. May nodded and Pepper drained her glass too. Peter frowned, looking back to the screen where John Travolta and his dance partner, Stephanie, were in the car. Peter vaguely remembered them winning and giving the award away. Now, he was quite clearly forcing himself on her, and she was struggling away.

Peter frowned and soon enough Tony’s hand was covering his eyes. “I heard it was possible to write a film without sexual assault,” Tony commented.

Pepper snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The scene was over soon after and the adults were all refilling their wine glasses – Peter had lost count a while ago and they were all much looser than Peter saw them usually – getting ready to join in on _You Should Be Dancing._

“I think I’m coming down with something,” Peter whined, resting the back of his hand across his forehead. This was his last idea to get out of the rest of this ass-sucking movie about disco. Faking an illness.

Tony looked down at him with amusement, tilting his head. “Are you now?” Gently, Tony nudged Peter’s hand from his forehead, and felt the skin there himself. “You don’t seem warm.”

“I’m hot one minute and cold the next,” Peter complained. “My stomach aches and my head hurts and-”

“I think I know what this is,” Tony interrupted. “It’s pretty serious, if you ask me.”

“It _feels_ serious,” Peter insisted.

Tony nodded, then looked over to May to get her attention. “Pete’s not feeling too good,” Tony said. “I think he’s coming down with _disco fever._ ”

The adults in the room cracked up laughing, and Peter groaned, slinking down so far into his seat that he slipped off it and onto the floor. He made his home there, lying his head on the carpet, the coffee table obscuring his view of the screen. This was the worst night ever. Absolute worst. Just plain bad.

Peter was banning May from ever having a turn again.

He wasn’t sure he had the power to do that but he could certainly try.

When Sexual Assault Scene Number Two occurred, Peter was still on the floor and Tony placed his foot on the side of Peter’s head, keeping it down.

“What-”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Just stay there.”

He heard May’s familiar snort and rolled his eyes as they chattered over the scene, not wanting to watch it. As far as he was aware after that, someone died in some water and there was a train, but Peter was rolling around on the floor and occasionally using Tony’s knee to prop up his chin and vaguely listen in on everyone’s conversations.

May was talking about her new boss at work, Pepper was complaining that they’d almost finished the wine and Tony was trying to persuade an intern in one of the labs to bring up more wine via text.

The intern, when they arrived, had wide eyes and two bottles of red in his hands. Tony grinned over his shoulder, took the wine and the amazed intern scuttled off, not before sending a look around in every direction to the Iron Suite living quarters no staff ever got to see, and Peter, star-fished on the floor next to the coffee table, a large Iron Man hoodie swamping his figure and groaning in different pitches, without taking any breaths.

Apparently, they needed the wine for the last musical number, the one they’d all been patiently waiting for: _Disco Inferno._

When that one came on, the adults, solidly drunk by this point, clambered off the sofa and yelled the lyrics to their heart’s content, dancing together, wine almost sloshing out of their cups (but all three of them were naturals with keeping all their precious booze from falling on the floor). Tony span Pepper and May danced over to Peter, tugging on his hand until he was on his feet and pulling him into the fray.

Disco did, does and will always suck, but this, Peter figured, was pretty okay.

He’d prefer it if May chose _Dirty Dancing_ next time, though. 1987 Patrick Swayze was, in his opinion, far more attractive than young John Travolta could even _hope_ to be.

**Author's Note:**

> dont h8 i just don't like disco and saturday night fever
> 
> pls talk to me in the comments


End file.
